Sunday Morning After
by Hana-chan
Summary: After a night of partying, someone wakes up with memory gaps and other surprises.


TITLE: Sunday Morning After  
AUTHOR: Hana-chan gohana_chan@yahoo.ca  
STATUS: complete  
CATEGORY: songfic, humour?  
PAIRINGS: choose-your-own. ^_~  
RATING: PG for implied situations and the use of the word f*ck  
SPOILERS: None  
WARNINGS: None really  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own whatever series I decide to post this for or it's characters. The song is "Sunday Morning After" by Amanda Marshall  
SUMMARY: Someone wakes up Sunday morning with a few memory gaps and a few surprises ^_~  
ARCHIVE: FanFiction.Net http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=81835  
FEEDBACK: Please  
NOTES: I love this song. I couldn't decide whom to feature in it so I made it a chose-your-own fanfic. Oh, and this is a completely different type of song fic, so I hope it works.   
  
/song lyrics/  
  
Sunday Morning After  
  
The persistent ringing of a cell phone pulled me into consciousness. Groaning, I fumbled around on the night table until I found the source of the noise. Throwing an arm over my eyes, I flipped the phone open. "/Uh, hello?/"   
  
"/Where are you?/" said a voice.  
  
"/What time is it?/" I groaned, trying to make my mind function properly.  
  
"/Um. . .it's. . .1:30. . .in the afternoon./"   
  
"/Uh./"  
  
"/Are you alright?/" asked the naggingly familiar voice.  
  
"/Hang on./"  
  
I closed my eyes behind the arm that was still slung across my face and tried to remember what had happened last night. Thinking slowly, I tried to start with what I knew at the moment. /I woke with a killer hangover. Hope it was worth all this pain./ I winced. /I'd do it all over again./ I knew I'd do it again, I always did. Hmm. /By the time the party was over, Tequila was my claim to fame./ Damn, I thought /I couldn't remember my name./   
  
I was starting to think that I didn't want to remember anything else from that party.  
  
Let's see, /I was dancing with Jake when I last saw my keys. That was my first mistake, 'cause what happened to me?/ Sighing I drew my arm away from my eyes, letting them refocus in the dull curtain-shaded room.   
  
/I look down at my arm, baby and something's lookin' back at me. And I cannot believe it./  
  
/Oh my God! I woke up with a snake tattoo./ I thought, staring at the green creature twisted around my wrist and up my forearm. I bit my tongue and suppressed a yelp. /Oh my God! And I think that my tongue's pierced, too./  
  
"/Oh my God!/" I groaned, flinging my snake covered arm away from me to land on someone laying beside me. Startled, I looked over to see who it was. "/Oh my God!/" I moaned again uncomfortably. "/It's the Sunday morning after and baby who the hell are you?/" I hoped that whoever it was they knew, because I sure as hell didn't. The figure beside me just rolled over, but didn't wake up. I sighed. I could worry about the mystery bedmate later.   
  
Okay what else happened last night? /I remember yellin, 'Hey DJ! Jack the volume, I love this song!' And then it all gets hazy./   
  
I rolled slowly to a sitting position and looked around the room I was in. It was a dimly lit bedroom that was totally unfamiliar. There was, however a laptop sitting on the dresser showing what looked like an E-bay site. Squinting at it a moment trying to get my brain to kick into gear a bit more I blinked and looked closer.  
  
"Fuck," I moaned in resignation. "Of course, I should have known," I muttered. "/And my clothes are selling on E-bay./" I flick my middle finger at the computer. "/Click me./"   
  
Now what? I'm who knows where /and I don't know what I'm gonna put on. Where were my friends to save me?/ Some friends. They were probably laughing their asses off somewhere. Well, most of them since one ~had~ called to check, but I couldn't seem to put a name to the voice that had woken me up, though I knew it was familiar. I am such an idiot.  
  
I flung myself flat again. What else had happened last night? /I blacked out I came to and it's all such a blur./ Well, with the amount of alcohol I ~remember~ drinking, I imagine I did that a lot. /Had a blast, I assume but I'm really not sure./   
  
Rolling over to look at my bedmate, I shook one of the exposed shoulders. "/Exactly where am I now, baby,/" I say shaking the shoulder harder. "/Wake up and tell me your name. Excuse me 'cause this is insane!/"  
  
No response other than soft mumbling. Figures. My eyes fall on my arm which I noticed was stinging in a more noticable fashion now. The truth behind the sting was starting to sink in, in a very obvious way now that I was a bit more awake. /Oh my God! I woke with a snake tattoo/ I couldn't believe I was drunk enough to do that. I clicked my tongue in irritation and winced. /Oh my God! I think that my tongue's pierced, too./ Sticking my finger into my mouth I felt the round head of the barbell that was now thrust through my tongue.  
  
"I hate this!" I exclaimed to the still unconscious form beside me. "/It's the Sunday morning after and baby who the hell are you?/" There was still no response and I wondered if there would be in the near future or if I was going to have to sneak out (wearing what, I didn't know) and try and figure everything out myself. Good luck.  
  
I'm guessing that /my alter ego took over and took me on a fantasy ride/. I can just picture it now, me standing there and my alter ego pulling up in a nice sports car '/Do you want a ride/' Stupid thing. "/You can take me anywhere twice but the second time will be to apologize/" I mutter to myself. I was in serious need of help, and I ~would~ have to apologize for this. To someone, though I wasn't sure who. You'd think I'd have learned by now.  
  
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I picked up my cell phone and hit recall. Even if my mind wasn't working well enough to know who was on the other end, I did know that whoever it was was concerned about me if nothing else.  
  
After a couple of rings someone picked up.   
  
"Uh, hi?" I said tentatively.  
  
"/Oh my God!/ What happened to you? I've been worried since you hung up."  
  
"It's a long story," I sighed. I might as well get it over with. "/I woke up with a snake tattoo/" I started.  
  
"/Oh my God!/"  
  
"Don't rub it in. Oh, /and I think that my tongue's pierced, too./ Actually, I know it is."  
  
"/Oh my God! Oh my God!/"  
  
"Would you stop that? It's bad enough that I've been saying that since I woke up."  
  
"Fine," was the response. "So how are you?"  
  
"How do you think? /It's the Sunday morning after and./" I trailed off. I had another thought, and of course I blurted it out then and there. "/Baby who the hell are you?/"  
  
There was silence on the other end for a moment, then a burst of laughter. I glared at the offending phone as if the person on the other end could actually see it.  
  
"Where are you?" came the voice after a moment.  
  
"Uh, /I can't remember/" I said quietly. How humiliating. There was even more laughter.   
  
It was a good question though. /Where am I?/ No fucking clue. /What am I?/ A complete fool it seems. /Who am I?/ Now that's scary. I definitely had too much Tequila last night. /How am I?/ Sick as a dog. /How did I?/ Good question. How did I do anything last night?  
  
/I can't remember./  
  
"I'm going back to sleep," I said before hanging up. Story of my life. I hate Sunday Mornings.  
  
End. 


End file.
